The Romance of a Withered Flower
by Aishiteru Aizen
Summary: Little is left of Orihime’s existence…except for the thriving torment which grew viral after Kurosaki Ichigo’s death. Now a slave to Las Noches, Inoue’s only purpose is made clear through the touch of a god’s kiss: Serve Aizen.
1. The Romance of a Withered Flower

**The Romance of a Withered Flower**

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach. Some lines of speech were cited from one of the latest manga chapters according to the date of when this One Shot was released.

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"What's wrong? That's a rather pained face you're making. _You should smile_…for a darkened sun will only bring sadness."

Such a pungent and provocative moment was never to be swallowed loosely in the back of her mind. The sting was still there. The physical stringency. She could fell the soft pressure of his warm breath, (so _human_), pouting like a gentle, fading ocean tide against her softly rounded lips. Compelling.

_His grace was a marvel that she'd always distanced her amazement from. Yet, when he'd appeared in front of her, lifting his arm in a gentleness that suggested he'd never killed a day in his life, smoothing his soft thumb slowly over her bottom lip, fingers weightlessly cupping her chin, lowering his head so that only a thin wall of air separated the unity of their lips…_

Endearing…and yet…

_They were dead._

The sheer possibility that a smile could induce tears was absurd. And yet, when the little muscles that operated the corners of her mouth lifted, she felt her eyes burn and tighten like lemon flesh.

The dimples built into the creamy flesh upon his cheeks became more pronounced. She knew then, undoubtedly, that he was smiling.

"Orihime…this does not bode well with me." His voice was gentle, caressing, like the soft murmur of a concerned, yet confident lover; confident that everything would fade into place in the end. "Tell me. What can I do to make this more pleasant for you? Shall I hold a funeral at your consent?"

And with these words came the deepest promotion of helplessness. He would touch her, yet he would not _touch_ her. His ode possessed the intensity of a threat; his motions, his words, his promises did nothing to dictate the playful mockery which shone so profusely in his translucent eyes. He pretended that he _wanted_ her to be happy. Yet, affecting shyness, he would peel away the waxy and protective layers from her rose petals, and allow them to melt in the palm of his hands. He let his fingers bleed upon her thorns. He let the pricks breed her virulent infection. He wanted to feel her pain simply because…he himself was too superior, and he lacked that mandatory nerve to feel _pain_…and the thought of controlling such a sensitive emotion and physicality was utterly _entertaining_…and that was why he killed them. Every. Single. One.

So who did she have? No one but him. So to whom would she turn? _Him_. To whom would she desire affection from? _Him_. It was only a matter of time. You could only romance a withering flower for so long before it began to bow towards the earth. She was as breakable as a porcelain doll, and equally as appealing.

"You just smile…and wait here for a while."

…his lips fell softly over the plump flesh her of her bottom lip in the form of one-sided kiss…_and Oh_…What a silken, tenderly sweet morsel it was; a thorough indulgence of the highest sensation…

Flowers shed tears nocturnally. He wondered vaguely, when he returned to her in the morning, if she would awaken with dew droplets on her cheeks.

_You belong to Aizen-sama._

"You belong to me, Orihime." He said solemnly while pulling away, his eyes burning into hers. "You belong to Las Noches."

--

**A/N:** Ta-Da the end, in all my Aizen fangirl gloriness. Not that I love evil, manipulative, psychologically abusive men or anything…-cough- This is the first one shot I've written in about two years. Please R&R!


	2. Hearken Unto Me

_At least two people encouraged me to continue, thinking that this story was not a one shot. Well, I'll give it another shot. I have no idea how I'm going to pull this together. Plots work best for me when I string them together as I work. But if you guys have any plot ideas, send them to me in a PM and I will consider them. _

_I got great reviews! Ten for a one shot in such a short amount of time! The Romance of a Withered Flower is even in a C2! YEAH. Do you know how exhilarating that was for me?? Very…very very very very!_

_Thanks so much to my awesome reviewers: **happygirl24,Nakebenihime, ValykirieRevolution, vfergus, Anicka, CP, TideDrop, Angelusfaith, Midnight Lost, shAyy (YAAA TRIK YAAA!! :P)**_

_**Chapter Two**_

_**Hearken Unto Me**_

_**Men are but children of a larger growth:**_

_**Our appetites are as apt to change as theirs.**_

_**And full as cravings too, and full as vain.**_

_--John Dryden, All for Love_

_**Here is the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. –**__Shakespeare, Macbeth _

The room was dark, because it was dark outside. The only visible object in the sky was a single thin clipping of a white crescent moon. You'd think, that with all the smothering black sky, the moon would struggle to spread its light through her window. But incredulously it didn't. It shone brighter in resistance. Eerie, and silent.

And here she was again and her arm was dangling off of the sofa, maneuvering like a single silver ball on a broken, emptied abacus. The other silver balls were gone, she imagined. Their strings had all been snapped from the wooden bar that handled them. And the less balls there were, the more room she had to push on the other balls, making their motions heavier…

"_You belong to me, Orihime. You belong to Las Noches."_

_What am I?_

Is her life that much of a questionable value? She has struggled, time and time again, to find the entire purpose of hanging on any longer. It seemed as if everyone she dare grazed became cursed, and the price that she paid to dabble in affection was expensive. It was unreal. She could not flee her emotions. She could not flee Aizen she could not flee the events that lead up to the current hour. She could not flee _Orihime_, the girl that had trifled, in the beginning, with forces that were far too occult for her tender composure. Maybe it would've been better if her brother had swallowed her.

_What am I saying? _Maybe_ it would have? No…Of course it would have…!_

The puffy sleeves. The long skirt that was draped nearly to her ankles. She felt like a costumed mockery; it was indeed, a quiet symbolism of Aizen's grip. It was almost as if Aizen had carefully suited her in 

order to smother her identity. Almost as if it was to mock her; he taking more pleasure in the fact that she had no idea what was so amusing. No…that _was_ the case. To smother her identity, and to craft the gentle wave of playful, almost doll-like influence that he had over her. His pleasures were simple; child-like. But then again, a man such as himself, with power and intelligence and influence and talent and frighteningly calm confidence…a man who possessed the grip to be able to get what he wanted with ease...it would not take a lot of material to please such a man, when he nearly owned everything that he'd ever wanted.

But all of this was old, old news…news that had crusted over her heart, and fossilizing to contort the heartbeat.

She placed her hand over her chest.

She wondered…

…could it possibly be an illusion?

For some reason, her heart beat seemed more muffled than ever. Not that it was puzzling of course. It was only a little startling. It was just that her heart had become larger; obese with the spilled blood of her fallen fellows. Oh…how selfishly her heart had drunk their deaths.

An infinite, excruciating, crushing sadness…she was far too sad to fathom its depth. Far too…_gone_…

_Ichigo, Ishida, Chad, Rukia_…

They were all _gone_. She could not decide which was destroying her the most…the truth of their falls…or…the knowledge that it was _all her fault_. No…it was more than that, she had many, many more bleeding scabs to pick at…

One being, for instance, that she had never told Kurosaki Ichigo that she had loved him.

She wanted to scream, but a great choke in her throat kept her from doing so. Tears wrestled from the ducts in her eyes…her eyes burned...every noise became intensely squelched by the pressure she was exerting over her skull…she had pressed both palms to the side of her head, simultaneously curling up into a quivering white ball. She had to vomit. Her head was going to explode.

_VOICES VOICES VOICES ALL SHE COULD HEAR WAS THEIR VOICES AND THEY WERE SMILING AND TELLING HER THAT IT WAS GOING TO BE ALRIGHT AND THEY WERE AT SCHOOL AGAIN AND THEY WERE ALL HAPPY LAUGHING TOGETHER AND SHE WAS NOT ALONE BUT THEIR EYES WERE LOOKING AT HER WITH NAÏVE CONCERN AND THEY DIDN'T UNDERSTAND THEY WOULD NEVER UNDERSTAND WHY IT WAS ALL HER FAULT--_

Tears were streaming down her pale, sagging eyes. Exhaustion. Pure, Exhaustion. And she was sobbing, gagging, wailing, trembling, gasping, _dying_—

"Orihime."

She was gibbering incessantly now, rocking back in forth in her curled position. Aizen raised a brow. So indulged was she in her misery that she hadn't noticed his arrival. It was quite…_interesting_…

He closed the door behind him politely, standing as a gray silhouette in the shadows. "Orihime." His voice was no more firm than it had been before, but something about it caused her to tantrum to cease. She opened her crinkled, gray eyes. Their gazes met vibrantly, and she stiffened, scrambling upright, her shivering hands clasped in her lap.

"Ai-Ai-zen…sama…" She looked down. Her expression became quite pained. "I'm…sorry, I didn't think I was keeping so much noise." Correction…she hadn't _cared_. "I won't do it anymore…"

Intriguing. He placed a suave smile on his lips, stepping forward. Orihime did not move. Rather…she seemed to become less static, become less alive than ever. And her pretty pale face became as blank as ever, securing the red emotion that had been there just milliseconds ago.

"So ka." He answered slowly. "It is quite alright."

He advanced upon her until he was directly before her sitting figure. So close was he that his robes pressed against her knees. His shadow, carved by the pungent moon, hung lazily over her bowing head.

Her apathy was passionate. Well played and equally impressive; hours and hours of _darkness_ and _self reflection_ and _luxurious worry_ and _fear_ and _guilt_ could often force one into a pronounced defensive system…or rather, drive them into one hell of a war against insanity. One in which the white flag could not be so easily obtained.

"I would like for you to heal someone for me."

The girl looked startled…and for a second, her brilliant mask was punctured and carelessly swiped by doubt. A millisecond later, her disturbance was wiped clean, and her features were constructed into artfully mastered numbness.

"I will not."

Aizen's features knit together sharply, and she became drenched in fear. His expression was not one of anger, but the reaction was just as startling as it would be if he were to strike her.

"Indeed, you will not." He said gently, his face softening back into its youth. "For the person that I desired for you to heal has passed."

It occurred to her that his face had changed so quickly not because he was angry, but because he sensed the falter of someone's dying reiatsu.

"It would have interested you to know who the person was."

The tension passed her body like a wave; first freezing her legs, traveling her hips, quivering her breast, and finally shook her closed lips into loose, pink hinges.

"Na-nani…? What have you…what have you done?"

"Why, Orihime…do you not think your accusation is unjust? If you'd only agreed quickly enough, said person may still be alive."

"What have you done? Who is it?"

Aizen's smile became silkily pronounced, and something contrastingly wicked flashed in his eyes. "It turns out that Kurosaki Ichigo was unable die at his designated time. I've done nothing. Was it so wrong for me to attempt to save him?"

"Stop it…" Orihime said faintly, her entire body quivering. "You are lying…you are lying…you told me that he was dead…I couldn't feel his reiatsu, so you are lying, you have to be!"

"Oh…?" Aizen's brow piqued. "Which are you truly refusing to believe, Orihime? That I am lying to you, or that you yourself could have saved him on time?"

Aizen watched as Orihime began to breathe in heavy, frightening strains. "Aizen-sama…there is nothing that you can do to hurt me anymore…"

_There is nothing that you can do to hurt me anymore…_

**How wrong you are, onna. How so utterly wrong you are...**

What was he doing, but slowly massaging stone into her soul? So deeply that it could not be pricked and pulled by ordinary fingers? The ability for a single being to make change was utterly incredible. A credible value. He was entranced by her humanity…

Yet, he did not lust after her. At least…not yet. It was undeniable that he craved affinities other than tea… However, he wanted her…he wanted to own her emotion, her flesh. He wanted to feel her; he wanted to breathe her without actually doing so. He wanted the blueprint of every single cell of her body and mind to be embedded within the deepening canyon of his intellect. Knowledge. It was as infectious as sex.

"Is that truly what you think…Orihime?" His eyes seemed to brighten, despite their calmness. "You have forgotten to whom you are bound. You have forgotten who you are."

"I—"

Aizen gracefully lengthened his reach so that his fingertips lightly grazed the underside of her chin.

She shivered as if she'd been plunged into ice water. It caused him to feel…something faintly equivalent to desire. That he could illicit such an extreme behavior in the opposite sex was most pleasing. It was a rather innate gift of his. The fright in her eyes, however, dampened it almost immediately.

"Now…" He said expectantly, weightlessly placing his palm over the soft skin of her cheek. "Tell me what I want to hear."

"I…" His eyes strayed from her gray irises, wandering down to the soft rounding of her lips. Funny…he craved another taste. He felt almost deprived of their sweetness. "I belong to you, Aizen-sama…"

Delightful. He smiled soothingly, resisting the barbaric temptation to unsubtly bury his mouth over hers. "…and do you know why?"

Orihime shook with chill. His voice…it was, unusually soft. Frighteningly so. But she did not respond to this. She could not. For at that very moment, Aizen's expression was _different_. He was like a ghost as he leaned into her. He was kneeling now, and his hands had moved like liquid; so fluent and gentle they were as they felt her body in the dark, seeking her small waist, that she was not startled. His lips did not touch hers…they moved past hers, past her cheek…their cheeks now brushed lightly together, and she felt the flesh of his lips, surprisingly soft yet full, touch her earlobe. He was breathing calmly…and she could smell his warm breath…like _tea_…and she was feeling heavy, and numb, and disoriented…but she did not move. She _refused_.

"I will ask you again." He said quietly. If there were other people in the room, only she would have heard. "Do you know why? No…? You belong to me, Inoue Orihime, because I am god…and I _enjoy_ my job…"

"You are an evil man…" She responded heavily, surprised at the weakness of her own voice.

"Incorrect…" He'd moved his lips, they were smoothing against her cheek, drawing ever closer to her mouth. "Good and evil are inexistent. There are only the strong and the weak. There are only servants, and those that are meant to be served."

"You are a monster!" Her voice carried more strength now. It was a bit…arousing…

"No…" He said gently, kissing the corner of her mouth. "I will allow you to see what is monstrous…"

And with that he drew her lips into a sensual dance with his own, and she did not resist…and her warmth was tempestuous. He opened his eyes to see that her cheeks were pleasantly flushed…_beautiful_…he drew back just to see…_just to see_…and predictably, he felt her small fingers touch both his cheeks and pull his lips back into her mercy, and she was kissing _him_ now, her sweltering passion thrice that of what he had given her.

He broke the kiss suddenly, ears sharpening at the parting suction of their moist lips.

"What is monstrous…" He said in a continuing fashion, staring calmly into her eyes. But she looked away, blushing deeply and breathing with heated shame. "…is forgetting Kurosaki Ichigo so easily."

She would have slapped him. But he caught her wrist like an opposing magnet and clasped it tightly. "Pity. He will never have had you as I."

**A/N:**

**Aishiteru Aizen:** That's it fo' chapter two ya'll. It took me fo'eva to write. In fortunately...I don't have internet right now, so my posts will probably once a week, or once every two weeks, or virtually...when I feel like coming to the library.

**Aizen:** Interesting. What inspires you to write?

**Aishiteru Aizen: **Yo momma. Excuse me, asshole, this is my section of the story and you've had your part. So get the hell outta here. I've nearly burned a hole in my brain trying to narrate you. I think I need time alone! Manipulative bastard.

**Aizen: **Considering the time I've taken out of my schedule as god to visit you, you should be more appreciative, don't you think?

**Aishiteru Aizen:** Kiss my ass, I just converted to atheist.

**Aizen: **...is that so?

**Aishiteru Aizen: **YAAHH TRIK YAAAH!! I hate that song, by the way.

**Aizen:** Then why does your penname still say, "I love you Aizen?"

**Aishiteru Aizen: **Um…Because…

**Aizen: **??

**Aishiteru Aizen:** HAHAHAHA!! Well, whaddya know I just ran out of typing space better wrap it up. READ AND REVIEW PLEASE!! I'm outtie! –disappears in magical poof-

**Aizen: **Yes. Read and review. You have forgotten who you are. She is the writer, and you are the reader. You will review. There are only three types of people in this world…writers, readers, and lurkers, and you must maintain your station as it befits you. The lurkers usually die in a spasm of flames conjured by the gods of hell because they do not review. If you choose that low, degrading path, it is not of my concern…however, more and more people go to hell everyday because they choose to lurk around stories and not review them--

**Aishiteru Aizen: **Erm, what the hell…-appears and snatches Aizen out of A/N corner- Sorry about that…**R&R**!


	3. The King & the Jester

**Disclaimer**: Now everybody knows that I don't own Bleach. Bleach is owned by Kubo Tite. And if you think that Bleach is owned by anyone other than Kubo Tite, bless yo heart . - _To Kubo Tite_: Write on brotha, write on.

**_A/N_**

**Aishiteru Aizen: **This Chapter has literally tore me to shreds. It was extremely difficult to write, and I'm still convinced that it's bad. I've rewritten it several times. I know its bad, and I apologize. Anyway It's 4:29 am, I'm cramping _really_ bad, and as you can imagine, I'm not really in the mood to do Aizen side notes. -snorts- (Like you guys even asked for them.)

Anyway before we began, I'm going to to do shout outs, and I'd like to give an extra warm, mushy ridiculously large huge shout out to: **_Brighit Raven!!_**

Brighit Raven, in my last two chapters, has given me some of the best reviews I've ever had. She wants to translate my story into Portugese, and I've granted her permission to do so. AWESOME. The story is goin bilingual. Thanks Brighit Raven!! I'm not sure how mushy I can get without scaring you...'

More shoutouts to:

_**mymissmochakitty, NakeBenihime, Anicka, frosted heavens, Laura!! (**Who has thoroughly proved that my story has demon powers because it has captured her soul. Oh dear gawd, please help tis child!!**) MaiButterfly, DoodleNoodle-no-baka, and mateliin!**_

I didn't really get tah respond to all of you guys personally, but I took each and every review to heart! Trust me (I read some of them multiple times just to bask in their glory O.O)

As my ending statement, I shall kiss my peace fingers and say: I LOVE TEH AIZEN! KTHNX!

--  
_Chapter Three_

_**The King & the Jester**_

_The true consternation of all men is that there will be no end to anything, yet this was something that he relished. It was not presumptuous to linger within the mystery of his humanity._

"**Pity. He will never have had you as I."**

Aizen Sousuke stood still, his hands hanging limply at his side, while he stared down at her, weighing his thoughts.

_He who is a god knows that there is time for everything, yet time for nothing…_

"Good night, Orihime."

Only a gentle whisk of white robe and hakama indicated that he had taken leave of the room. And as he retreated down the hall, her weeping ghosted his heels with quiet persistence.

Not that he hadn't noticed, of course. It's just that he was far more interested in his next tea break.

_)-(_

Aizen sipped.

Perhaps the parting statement he'd given to Orihime was not the most congenial of farewells. The truth never was. How _unfortunate_.

In the immediate hours that he had receded from his guest's room, he'd consumed two cups of tea; and now, feeling quite merry, he was working on his third. The knowledge of the five long sought after deaths had rinsed the halls of Las Noches like a sashaying wave, and the escalation of moody arrancar had not displeased him…rather, settled him into a pleasant mood as well. Not that he was never in a pleasant mood, of course. In fact, his mood had been explicitly genuine since he'd taken his leave of the girl.

His lips overlapped the lacquered rim of his teacup, and he remembered, with minty satisfaction, the engagement that he had just incurred not half a night ago. His features rippled softly as he contemplated the extent of his advances.

The remarkable sensation of it melted into a rich lukewarmth, settling fluidly throughout the spread of his abdomen...it was not an unpleasant sensuality, though thoroughly curious, and it intensified as his mind's eye roamed the pronounced feminine landscape of her soft features. Baffling, indeed, that he should want to shiver at the lightest thought of her purity…baffling indeed, because Aizen did not engage in such things as "shivering".

Intrigued still was he with the sincerity of her innocence, _mellifluous_, which seemed to ripple out of recognition at the slightest indulgence of his touch. She was inexperienced. She was young. But that made the process all the more delicate, and the lightest tinge of pink on her cheeks was definitely a sign of that fluctuation. But that did not mean that he should _tread_ delicately…oh no…however, a slovenly pace often made such a process all the more savory.

And perhaps she was unaware of the surrealism in which she lived...because the thought that a gentleman such as Aizen-sama was a _monster_ was rather…interesting.

His lips quirked quietly, portraying a hint of his internal satisfaction.

Her companions had been disposed of and the Soul Society had withdrawn their troops…with of course, the exceptions of Kuchiki Rukia and Abarai Renji, who were both gone for good, unlike their human comrades. Pity.

Now there was no reason for them to save the girl. Their realization of her frank uselessness had turned them away from her in that neither was she a valuable alley or a deadly war tool. So she was not worth the risk of saving any longer, further proving that their rescue attempts were far more strategically geared towards war than were the intentions of Orihime's companions. And that was why Kurosaki Ichigo and the others were dead; intellectual defeciencies.

He had not known in the beginning whether he'd truly keep the girl or not. Her powers were of no relevance now. Therefore, she was without reason. However…Aizen always did as he pleased, and opted to keep her…

After all, what one could _not _do with boredom one could negate into a rather useful composition. And thus, Aizen Sousuke surmised, boredom was nothing but an _illusion_, a cusp between the nexus of _that_ and _is_.

It took a great amount of distortion to twist fire into water, if water was that which is truly coveted, that is. He found the task of the entire process not extraneous, but highly satisfying in a way only he could understand.

But she was a bit different, this girl. She'd had the potential create a staggering conflagration, but not enough courage to light the kindling. Therefore…it would not be as hard to, quite blatantly, manipulate her.

"Ai-Aizen-sama…is the tea not to your liking?"

A small voice ascended to him from where Aizen was sitting and his eyes moved fractionally to gaze down at Yevgeny Ybarra.

His temporary lapse in silence had sent the arrancar into spasm of paranoia, and Yevgeny's retracted expression, displaying such worry, did not very well compliment his sharply pale features.

Yevgeny Ybarra was a rather frail looking hollow that rose to a pitying height of three foot and a half. Aizen had never truly forgotten his presence. But so unoriginal was this boy that his cognition had taken precedence, making him temporarily inconspicuous.

The boy squirmed uncomfortably under the supremacy of his master's passive gaze, nearly tipping out some of the bronze liquid in the jug that he was clutching.

"It is greatly to my liking. However," Yevgeny flinched, his heart tinkering against his ribcage. "You have yet to deliver sustenance to Inoue Orihime."

Yevgeny trembled, shrinking under his horned helmet ."A-a-ano, please forgive me, I am t-terribly sorry." He wheezed, swallowing a thick jet of air before blabbering out another fit of massacred excuses. "I-I it's just—"

"Hn." Aizen said reflectively, cutting off the arrancar's rambling. Yevgeny flinched doubly, his wide blue eyes radiating incandescent fear.

"That is quite convenient."

Yevgeny blinked fervently, baffled at the cryptic statement. "Su-sumimasen…I-I do not understand Aizen-sama."

Aizen moved his arm in one acute motion and Yevgeny felt his heart shatter…However, Aizen had merely reached into his robes, gracefully sporting a small square of folded parchment between his fore and middle fingers. He held it out before his subordinate, feigning pleasant ignorance towards the sudden bought of fright.

"Yevgeny," Aizen said mildly, "please be so kind as to deliver this to our guest."

"H-hai, Aizen-sama!!" Yevgeny breathed exasperatedly, relieved at a chance of repentance. "I'll get her breakfast right away!"

Switching pitcher hands, Yevgeny reached out and grasped the letter with trembling fingers. Bowing multiple times and managing to only spill a modicum of tea upon his uniform, Yevgeny Ybarra scampered from the room like a frightened puppy that was intent on his mission.

Aizen smiled.

Mourning and crying were natural responses to difficult situations.

But then again,

_So was dying._

_)-(_

The door to the room opened brusquely, and in flooded a contagion of blinding halogen light that caused her to blink fervently. In the threshold stood the still silhouette of a familiar figure; Ulquiorra.

"Ulquiorra…?" Inoue inquired hoarsely, her whisper draped with that infectious sadness. She nudged herself awake, feeling a sense of sickly disorientation washing over as she sat up.

Orihime licked her ashen lips, but the taste she acquired was not hers. In reality, she had not truly tasted anything at all. It was the veracity that had slipped through the pores of her consciousness, seeping into that moment, externalizing into the taste that she knew was _him_. There was an unnamed feeling that flowed freely with this, but she daren't try it.

She felt as if she was going to vomit.

"_Pity. He will never have had you as I."_

"What is it?" She croaked, her voice trembling. Her lungs ached with the first dilations of awakening. Her heart ached. Her entire cardiovascular system hurt, swelled, tainted, searing hot…

Ulquiorra never averted his gaze from her as he sidestepped a cart of food being wheeled in.

"Eat." He commanded, his lips barely moving. He shut the door behind him loudly and pocketed his hoary white hands.

"I don't...I don't want to." She said thickly.

Ulquiorra's wide eyes seemed to obtain a layer of gleaming moisture...of opportunity. "So ka…" He started forward, the gentle clacking of his boats reverberating ominously off of the walls. "You wish for a more forceful approach."

Orihime pulled her bottom lip into her quivering mouth, suppressing the illusion of a depthless, unreasonable panic. Her hands began to shake. "Please…do not come any closer…"

"I believe that we have discussed this before." He countered solemnly. "If you do not eat, I can prepare alternative ways for you to gain your nutrients."

"I'm not hungry."

"That is unfortunate. I believe I will say it once more. Eat."

Orihime wobbled as she stood, then she lumbered over to the cart. She neatly uncovered the silver top from the dish and gazed down at the rations; a bowl of steaming, colorless broth, an assortment of deep, green vegetables covered in a pungent smelling sauce, two chopsticks, a sweet rice cake, and a small cup of tea.

Picking the chopsticks up in her shaking fingers, she downed the vegetables first, then gobbled up the rice cake. She wiped the crumbs from her mouth in a rather uncouth fashion before gulping down the tea in just one sitting. The broth came last, and she consumed it with slovenly intervals, her belly churning radically under the weight of unwanted food.

Once she was finished she stood motionless; bloated and sickly as if she had just conceived a writhing batch of fat tentacles.

"You are ordered to bathe."

"Bathe?" She repeated quietly, frowning at her abdominal contractions.

"Matte kudasai!!" Interjected a small, pleading voice.

A small arrancar dissolved from around the backside of the food cart, features screwed up in fretful anxiety.

"Inoue-sama!! Ohayogozaimasu!" He bowed with ridiculous enthusiasm and waved a piece of paper before her. "Aizen-sama wanted me to give you this! My name is Yevgeny Ybarra by the way, I'm so happy to meet Inoue-sama!"

Orihime managed to smile faintly at him before retrieving the letter from his hands. "Thank you, Yevgeny-kun."

A wet blush splashed over his narrow cheeks. "I-it's m-my d-duty, Inoue-sa-sama!"

He grasped hold of the massive cart at once, wheeled it away, and left her and Ulquiorra alone once more.

Orihime stared plaintively down at the letter…and quietly…laboriously…feeling her consciousness taper off into slight vertigo…she unfolded it. A cooling sensation prickled the skin of her heart as she began to read.

_Inoue Orihime, _

The calligraphy in which her name was formed was simple, but graceful; fluid, and elegant.

_Regretfully, I will be quite busy in the coming two days. I will be unable to visit you in your quarters. However, your endurance of my absence will not have been in vain… It is likely that you seek more appeasing surroundings…I will gladly cater to those deficiencies. Allow me to invite you to dine with me upon the night of my return. Your acceptance is required for such an engagement. _

_Until then, Orihime…_

_Aizen Sousuke_


	4. The Pinnacle

**Disclaimer: **-glares-I do not own Bleach, be it the cleaning supply or the anime/manga. Oh, and **Yevgeny Ybarra** is a character of my own creation. I don't know if I mentioned that last time but…_anywayyyz_…

**A/N: **I'm back again with yet another Etapa. Nothing like fresh, empty blank computer screen…-sighs contently- I am _sooo_ not stalling...but anyway, this chapter is probably not going to be as long.

Okay, anyway, I'd like to thank my reviewers for taking the time out to let me know how you feel! I really appreciate it you guys. Thanks to:

_**frostedheavens**__**, **__**DoodleNoodle-no-baka**_ (Happy belated birthday! ), _**mymissmochakitty**__**, **__**Brighit R. Gauthier**_, and _**TheGoldenOne**__**.**_

Onward! Oh and everyone, don't be hesitant to send me _feedback, constructive criticism, etc_!

**Chapter Four**

**The Pinnacle**

Like Ash.

He Found that,

The emptiness of her eyes,

Slightly displeased him.

Despite it all.

Orihime dipped her toes into the rich bath water. It emitted a soft odor of saturated minerals, the kind that would sooth the rough skin of its occupants in a form of cleansing therapy. The tension in her bones became emaciated almost immediately, and feeling lighter, she allowed her entire body to slip into the bubbly froth.

_Two Days._

Two days he would be gone. She found she did not particularly care where he was going. It was whether he would return that concerned her…

_Breathe evenly…don't think…forget…_

She sunk into the crystalline bubbles until only the slight plump her upper breasts could be seen, and then sighed. The soft hiss of air from the exhale caused a few bubbles, which were clumped together in glazes of greens, oranges, and pinks, to detach and flit excitedly through the air. She lifted one sopping wet finger and popped a particularly large specimen, another sigh following its execution.

The bath room Ulquiorra had escorted her to was elegant. It was fairly spacious, with a rounded pool of steaming clear water defining its center. Racks of white towels, shelves of herbal wash, soaps, and shampoos, and walls of robes had immediately caught her attention. And mirrors…rows and rows of mirrors…on the ceiling, even. It was quite…nice. It occurred to her that she hadn't bathed in _days_. Why was she being allowed to bathe now…?

_It's almost as if I can't live anymore._

She was miserable.

_**I can't cry.**_

She resisted, choking down the surge of tears that pulled a tight strangulation in her throat. Crying would only revive photo flash; after images of their faces… the will of her heart to never forget. The feeling of being trapped within the encirclement of their last moments, with Aizen a mere few feet away. His face smug, his eyes dancing, his palm outward, simply standing there…_would she reach out to touch his lips once more?_

A soft tremor awakened her from her blank stare, and she realized that she'd been sitting in the water for so long that it had grown cold.

She was shivering.

Orihime smiled, a slow feeling of madness calling gently, from afar. _Whispers_. She dragged her water logged fingers through her red tresses, deciding suddenly that she may cut them.

--

"Your time is up."

No answer. It was quite simple, really. He set a time and if she did not come forth at the passing of the hour, she would be gifted with an unsubtle reminder.

"I am coming in."

At the verbal command, the door drifted open, unclasping from the ivory colored vertical ridge which was the lock. He stepped in, caught a glimpse of naked shoulder, and paused.

"Where are your clothes." It was more of a quiet statement than a question. His green eyes shifted idly to the left, averting away from her crouched, bare form.

"I'm not finished." She replied meekly, clutching the shard of broken mirror in her hand. Shakily, she reached up and snipped away at yet another orange lock. It fluttered to the floor, cluttering within the soaking red mass that had formed as a result of her hair cut.

"Get up."

"I'm not finished."

_Snip..._

It only took a second, and he'd snatched the glass from her hands in such a precise manner that the flesh on her palm bruised red. In that moment, she felt like screaming.

Ulquiorra quietly kept his eyes forward. "I tire of repeating myself, onna. Get up and get dressed." His peripheral caught sight of a shattered mirror, the jagged pieces of it littering the floors and counter spaces. Nearby the wreckage was a firm bar of soap; the weaponry she used to create the mess.

Inoue Orihime unlocked her legs, and slowly, she stood from her sulking position. It was almost as if she was oblivious to her nakedness; oblivious to Ulquiorra's presence. And he did the same, utterly ignoring her, keeping his hands plugged casually into his pockets as she moved to where her clothes lay.

The wetness of her bare feet resounded as she shuffled forward. And below her, at her feet, the broken mirror shards gave her a demented reflection of a new woman. The new hair cut was lopsided, hardly even, and tapered just above her shoulder blades.

"Would you like help?" There was no perversion in the question…merely quiet urgency and impatience. An order.

"Iie." Her voice was barely above a whisper. She slipped into the difficult white layers as if they were a second skin, and only when she'd shoved the final boot onto her foot did she look up at him. And it almost disturbed her that he was looking at her, as well. There was command in his eerie green eyes, and so she stood, walking over to meet him. But no sooner than when she came in close contact with him did he began to tread his own, silent path…directing her out of the bath room. Orihime followed without resistance.

She wanted to ask him.

"Ulquiorra…?"

His pace remained even as they advanced through the white halls, and he gave no indication that he was listening. Orihime cupped a hand to her chest, her brows shifting downward.

"Ulquiorra…what will…" Her throat dried against her will. "What will Aizen-sama do with me?"

"Aizen-sama will do as he wishes." Ulquiorra replied immediately.

Orihime blinked, sighing and turning her head away.

"Aizen-sama will not be pleased that you have cut your hair."

Her heart winced in her chest. She jerked her head forward, staring at Ulquiorra's back with something akin to fear. "Na…Nani?"

"…I will ask Aizen-sama if he will consider installing a hearing aid."

A hard frown marred Inoue's features. "I…"

_What?_

She did not continue, and Ulquiorra did not open his mouth again. The rest of the journey through Las Noches was silent, only broken by the slight patter of the hard underside of their shoes as they hit the floor. He reached her room, opened the door, and allowed her to retreat into its depths.

"Ulquio—" But by the time she turned around he was gone. And once again, she was within the lone company of the barred moonlight…and the stifling sickness follows…

Orihime felt her knees began to buckle…her gray orbs illuminating behind a glassy layer of tears…

_The **breaking** point…_

Choking, she allowed herself to near the couch and lean upon it…the steel layers which were sustaining her were slowly peeling away to pure nothingness.

…_was just around the corner._

She crumpled, burying her face into a layer of fabric but stiffened at the immediate odor that crawled up her nose. Her head jumped away as she stared at the item that was sitting below her chin.

It was black. It smelled like _blood_. It smelled like…_Kurosaki-kun_…

She fell on her rear, a sharp whimper tearing from her lips. There, sitting upon the couch, was the folded up fabric of the _last shinigami uniform that Kurosaki Ichigo was to ever wear_. And placed on top of it was a card…she read it from where she sat.

_It was callous of me to have forgotten._

--_Aizen Sousuke_

_**Break**_.


	5. Conversion

**Disclaimer:** In the most simplistic statement I can offer all of these scary lawyers and copyright people, I will say that I do not own Bleach.

**A/N: **I'z back w/ another (kinda short) chappy. And I am sincerely sorry that my updates are monthly(ish)…and I know the story is going kinda slow but…in the beginning I hadn't intended on really making this a _story_ story! And I'm kind of depressed right now but…Heh, excuses excuses! Um…I hope this chapter is okay…

Anyway, I want to thank the peoples that have taken time to review. First, I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a friend of mine, _**Brighit R. Gauthier**_, who has been _amazingly_ supportive. As stated before, she translated the story into Portuguese and she even made me some fan art! I'll post the links to the fan art on my profile so the readers can check it out! Love yah!

_**frostedheavens**_, _**DoodleNoodle-no-baka**_, _**St.Kitsune**_,_** TheGoldenOne**_, and _**Lady Kaliska**_, I tip my hat to you. Thank you so much for the reviews!

--

_Chapter Five_ _**Conversion**_

Silence permeated her quarters. Every now and then, a subtle patter of lily-footed strangers met her ears from the other side of the world; the side which she'd abandoned. Hushed voices. The rattle of the sand outside her window, perhaps? She didn't know…she had grown deaf from the unconscious roar of blood in her ears.

The hours passed, ignoring her muted inquiries of '_When?_'

She ate as commanded, answered Ulquiorra with monosyllabic statements, and refused to meet his eyes.

And when she was required to bathe, he stood at the edge of the room with his back to her. The mirrors had been taken out...the shattered glass cleaned.

But that did not mean she could not see her reflection in the water. At times…she had actually begun to forget what she looked like.

At night, she rounded her emaciated fingers over the bars and _waited_ for her sense of time to return. Her vitality. Her need—no, _excuse_ to live. Somehow, she even convinced herself that Aizen hardly meant her harm. Hardly wished to keep her there, alive, enclosed by the bulk of his ravenous talons…drinking off of her misery, like some sort of elixir. Maybe he had forgotten about her? Maybe she was the tail of his concerns? Maybe…he would set her free.

She toyed with these notions, only to realize that these thoughts were very similar to the strained amount of patronizing hope she'd settled upon Ichigo. Who did she think she was, fooling with _reality_??

Only a fool would attempt to search the veracity of Aizen's intentions.

So why even bother…why bother…why _bother_…?

To question the decisive judgment of a _god_?

Thusly, it was at the window that she relinquished her rights to individual ownership.

Inoue Orihime _just gave up _that night. She gave up everything that she had believed in…she mentally crumpled beneath the weight of her deterioration…and for once, the girl stewed in nothing but the prospect of divine submission.

It was then…that she truly belonged to Aizen.

--

It was the morning of the day of Aizen's return.

When she walked over to Ichigo's robes, she felt Aizen's breathe against her neck; an easy warmth, suffused with tea and mint and mutual intentions. She turned around, but he was not there. She bent over at the hip, coupled the black folds to her chest and tried to breathe.

"_What is monstrous…is forgetting Kurosaki Ichigo so easily."_

There was an odd feeling at the pit of her stomach. It struck her heavily that she could not recall the sharp emotion…its suddenness left her strangely nonplussed, and for a moment she was left raking the back of her mind to place its origin.

…_she was kissing _him_ now, her sweltering passion thrice that of what he had given her..._

Her misted eyes sharpened and she realized that she had not been trying to recall not a feeling at all…rather, a dream. A replay of previous events. A night's supplementary for the suppressed desire that Aizen had watered and dubbed monstrous.

Could she call it his fault?

And she blushed, breathed--because she had been holding her breath, faltered before her feet could mobilize properly—

"Onna."

A rich thrill of terror groped her spine like iron talons and she spun around. "Ulquiorra—" She choked out, clutching Kurosaki's robes tighter to her chest.

Before her, the door was thrown open, framing the hoary arrancar in a freakishly bright light. His green gaze was leveled with hers, unmoving, like the petrified eyes of a severely venomous serpent. She frowned, oblivious to the way the blood rushed to her cheeks in response to her surprise.

And she waited, but he did not speak. He continued to inquire her. She stood, feeling irregular; limp. Then suddenly, she threw out her arms and tossed Ichigo's shinigami uniform at his feet.

For once, his gaze turned incredulous.

"I want you to get rid of it." Her voice was oddly stony.

Ulquiorra kicked the tainted clothe to the side. Erected one finger, poised his cero, fired—a cylindrical green beam pervaded the darkness as a green spectacle, and the odor struck her to be as sordid as burning flesh.

Her last ounce of remembrance was reduced to smoldering ashes.

"Are you ready?" The question was oddly suiting. He spoke as if he was giving her a choice. But she knew that the inquiry was only for appropriated purposes…

"…he's here?" She forced herself to ask.

He did not answer that. Instead, he nodded to an unknown source, and several arrancar bustled into the room.

He watched her face then.

Her eyes never left his.

He turned…closed the door behind him.

**A/N:** Next chapter, Orihime meets up with Aizen again. Yayness! Kbye!


	6. Iris Ensata

**Disclaimer:** By rule of several boldly announced statements (-_cough_-Copyright laws –_cough_-) and lots of other scary people with suitcases, I do not own Bleach.

Thanks for all the reviews guys! You r mai inspirations and motivations: _**St. Kitsune,**_ _**NakeBenihime**__, __**frostedheavens**__, __**Brighit R. Gauthier**__, __**DoodleNoodle-no-baka**__, __**Lady Kaliska**_, and _**Kpivos**__._

**A/N:** I posted this one very early because I'm going to be quite busy in the coming days.

--

_Chapter Six __**Iris Ensata**_

_**Flowers never emit so sweet and strong a fragrance as before a storm. When a storm approaches thee, be as fragrant as a sweet smelling flower.**_ _–Jean Paul Richter_

"Konnichi wa."

The girl in the reflection of vanity mirror recited four, crisp syllables. _Hello_, she had said, and Orihime responded by lifting one hand to her own face.

She drew her fingers over the ever deepening ridges of her eyes. She could feel them; the sharp swell of her cheek bones, outlined by the gentle press of her probing fingertips. She had gotten thinner, she realized. Paler. She attempted to smile, but she found that her lips did not have the appetite. She attempted to laugh…but her heart lacked the sustaining ache. And as much as she was tempted to acknowledge this emptiness, she did not.

Instead, the girl merely settled for mild disorientation; shrugged the white camisole higher upon her shoulders, adjusted the zipper, and tweaked a lock of hair. She tugged one black stocking over a milky white thigh…looped a loose lock of red behind her ear…wrenched the other stocking on and made sure that the long skirt she was wearing did not get caught in the pull…danced her fingers around the rough white geta until each were firmly strapped to her feet.

"You look lovely," Shun'o said, his eyes steeped into pleasant smiles, "You always do."

"Arigatou…" She responded, the acknowledgement tumbling out of her lips rather gracelessly.

The fairy hovered on her shoulder, his blonde ponytail swinging with incandescent cheer. "Look, Orihime, they cut your hair evenly. Goodness…it makes you look older."

She sighed mutedly, ignoring the sullen pang from that comment.

She hadn't known their names; the arrancar that had bustled in after Ulquiorra retreated had rather dutifully transformed her. And though they had not resurrected her from her current state, they'd accurately covered it up with new garbs and a haircut. In short…dolled her up for her date with their master.

It reminded her of how a funeral parlor was run; dress the body as best you could and then send it to the grave. There were, however, subtle details that could not be avoided; a stab wound for instance could be sewn for good measure, but you could still see the slit of puckered up flesh.

And now, as she sat before the mirror they'd brought, all she could do was wait. Thusly, she had waited. Waited all morning, slept until the evening stumbled around and found she hadn't napped so refreshingly in a very long time. It was strange…

And now as the stars nipped at the sky in the reflection of the mirror, her anxiety rocked her spine like a time bomb. She was positively dreading him.

Her fairy, Shun'o, had externalized in order to offer her company—a rather unusual feat, since her fairies only came out when she summoned them—shooting the occasional compliment or warm phrase. She had not minded…she had welcomed his presence by acceptance but she did not lend him conversation.

Finally, just when the worrying could not reach another level of terror, Ulquiorra Schiffer sprang through the door in all of his phantom-like grandeur. She stood immediately and Shun'o emaciated back into her hair clip.

"Aizen-sama has requested your presence. You will follow me." He turned on his heel.

--

He stood on the second step from the bottom.

He looked vaguely magnificent, as if he'd popped anew from the slightest threads of inexistence, even though his absence had amassed to be only that of two days. All white robes shaped his shoulders and a violently dark obi lit his waist. It appeared to be magenta; its hue was thicker than blood. He was smiling, his brown eyes rather lazy…and the massive ivory staircase that spawned from behind him led into unknown depths.

She thought that she had been breathless when Ulquiorra led her through the halls. But if she was breathless then…her lungs had to be pinched to prunes now.

"Good evening, Orihime." He held out one opened palm; an expression of invitation.

The girl executed a half-hearted stumble…forwarded herself, rather clumsily, until she hit the foot of the stairs. He did not guide her up. Rather, she awkwardly anchored onto his hand and took each step as if she'd forgotten how to walk.

She paused, keeping her eyes carefully averted. "Hai…konbon wa." When he did not release her hand, she gracelessly removed it and fumbled with loose strand of hair.

A trickle of amusement danced in his eyes. "It interests me…what you have done."

Their close proximity was suffocating her, "I don't know what you mean, Aizen-sama."

"You cut your hair, did you not Orihime?"

"Oh, yes." She clasped her hands out before her. "Yes…I did. Does it not please you?" She mentally winced, remembering Ulquiorra's words.

"On the contrary." A subtle smile split his face again, "I find it very suiting. However…experimenting with liberties will cause me to question what else you may attempt when I am not around."

Hard embarrassment lit her cheeks and she swallowed drily. "You will not have to worry about such things, Aizen-sama."

He looked down at her, "I am sure…that I will not."

And he stepped away, ascending the high cluster of stairs that opened up to an archway of beaming light. "Follow me, if you will."

Orihime silently ghosted his heels, a faint feeling of incredulity swimming through her chest. It was so suddenly unreal that she standing behind him, that all of her friends were dead, that she would never see Karakura Town again. Unreal that she had accepted this fate…accepted that this was the closest thing to happiness that she would ever achieve.

They stepped through the entrance and the world burst anew. Below them, another set of stairs that led to an opened courtyard; sand build up, stone walkways, and a moon that burst a crescent above. Surrounding them from off the side were the barring walls that kept out the unwanted in Las Noches. She was in the outside in, and the fresh air that raked her lungs was unfamiliar.

Aizen stood aside and she allowed herself to descend. And once she reached the bottom, she realized that something was extravagantly strange…

A cluster of unlikely vegetation, huddled beneath the looming form of a curving sand dune, caught her attention. And upon further inspection she realized that they were flowers. Hundreds…thousands of them, were blooming from the reaches of the sand as if it were all too natural. She was stunned to see their infestation! The idea that there were flowers sprouting in such a horrid environment was absolutely inconceivable.

Yet, there they were; velveteen origami figurines whose faces were turned upward in order to drink the moon.

They were lovely Japanese irises…yellow folds bloomed from their receptive mouths and a gentle purple hue trickled over the crinkled white skin of their petals. Odd…she was afraid to graze them, as if they were intoxicating with only a mere touch. Or…as if they would singe her skin had she dare impose her own impurities on such an innocent thing.

"They are the Light at Dawn." Aizen's voice floated to her, "Enhanced…they will bloom even in the most peculiar conditions."

"Doshite…?"

"Why?" Aizen smiled, "Simply because I want them to."

His reply startled her, but she could not think of anything inventive to say back to him. So instead, she allowed the nail of her finger to tickle the under belly of one lopsided petal. "They are very pretty."

"Indeed." His voice captured her again, "Which is why they only flourish here."

"Ano…it seems strange that they would grow out of sand. But…you don't want them to be tainted?" She actually sounded confused at her own wording.

"Iie." He began to walk ahead of her, "I do not."

His robes swept past her crouched form and then he was ahead of her. She huddled, for a moment, and gazed outward at the steep walls which circumscribed the innards of Las Noches. This was when an astonishingly wild thought clasped to the forefront of her mind. _She could escape…_could she not?

If she just allowed Aizen Sousuke to trust her enough, _she could escape_.

_Demo_…even if she could escape, where would she go? Miles and miles of hostile desert and blood thirsty scavengers waited beyond the gates of The Night. Orihime could not survive on her own…traipsing out in that sort of wild was ludicrous. She'd much rather spend the night in a tiger infested jungle.

_Iie_. Attempting to deceive a god of deception was not a very prudent idea. She was, in all her subtle naivety, sure that Aizen could smell treachery from a mile away…and she was _infinitely_ sure that she was incapable of pulling such a hoax herself.

"Orihime."

Her mild moment of liveliness seeped back into nothingness.

"It is impolite to keep me waiting."

"Gomen nasai…" She bleated, pulling herself back to her feet. "I did not mean to do so…"

He smiled in understanding, "Quite alright. It is not unusual for one to lose oneself when searching very carefully for answers."

Orihime froze, cold fear spearing through her breathing cavity. His eyes, piercing maroon, were narrowed as if searing through the very depth of her intentions. "Aizen-sama--" She panicked as he approached, a throaty burst of air escaping her lips, "I did not—"

"Silence. Tell me…what does that word mean to you?"

Her throat wrenched nearly closed. "An—"

Aizen Sousuke flash-stepped; grasped the zipper to her camisole and tugged her forward and she whimpered.

"It means," He looked past her, "To reframe from speaking…"

She couldn't breathe. He was too close…too damned close…her heart was melting red hot over her ribcage…she could feel it, seeping into her belly, only to evaporate as butterflies…

"It means," He continued, "To reframe from speaking even in the places where I cannot hear you." His eyes darted back into place, cutting into her own. "Do you understand?"

"Yes!"

"No, you have yet to pick up on what I am telling you." To her heated horror and confusion, he only pulled her even closer.

"Aizen—"

His fingers slowly pried at the zipper, pulling it down and peeling the enclosed folds apart—

"Stop it!" She yanked away, trembling mechanically. "Please—"

He was before her again, curling his arm around the arch of her back. She was forced to bend, her chest pressing into his, "Please…what?" His voice fell into a chilling undertone.

She was dizzy, and she realized that this was all incessant gibberish, and that the blush melting onto her cheeks was a product of more than just the combined heat of their bodies. She could feel the artery in her neck pulsating full force and then—

The tip of his tongue dipped lightly onto her neck, nicking the throbbing layer of skin…and stars of desire exploded forth in her vision.

"_Hn…_" He released her and she _plummeted, _but his hand snapped out to grab her zipper and she was hovering blindly.

"Are there any further discrepancies that you wish to share with Aizen-sama?"

A throaty _no_, fluttered tonelessly from her lips…and Aizen felt a rich thrum of satisfaction sift through his blood like gold. "So ka. Then we will continue on, as promised."

He paused.

"How would you like your tea?"

--

**Aizen:** I R god!!

**AA: **Lolzerz!…No u IS not. Now hush, before I eradicate you with this eraser. –holds out giant eraser-

**Aizen:** I'm afraid you cannot do that. –smiles—

**AA:** -glares- And why ever not??

**Aizen:** It is quite simple. You do not own Aizen-sama...and I am sure many of my fangirls will hurriedly sacrifice your blood in order to assure my resurrection...if it were to occur.

**AA:** _Psh_! Haha! Hahahaha!!

**Aizen:**...

**AA:** Hahahaha! That's some _funny_ shizzit.

**Aizen:** You are, perhaps, the only person whom I have failed to understand.

**AA:** Excellent. That means I have done my job. Stick around for the next chapter you guys!


	7. Choices

**Disclaimer: **For the last damn motherfrakkin' time, I do not own Bleach. Not the crap under the sink, or the anime.

**A/N**: Yay, I gave out candy! **Happy Halloween everyone!** And guess what??! Halloween is my anniversary! Freakin yeah! :D For some reason, I joined this site on Halloween in 2005. How weird…anyway, I hope everyone had lots of candy. ^^

Okay…on to more pressing issues…as you may have noticed, I changed my fic rating from **T** to **M**. This is because well, I figured the themes were pushing it. Also, I might have some unspecified _citrus_ in future chapters…but I'm not promising anything. Don't forget to drop me a review, because all of your words bring joy to my angstified soul. Muchos gracias to:

_**Brighit R. Gauthier, Lady Kaliska, frostedheavens, Dreamsofdragons(x2),**_ _**DoodleNoodle-no-baka(**_That last ingredient was particularly tasteful darling! XD_**), (**_Of course you're not a bad person!_**), EspadaGirl(**_Indeed, he is._**), **_and _**Alucard's- Master.**_

For those of you who put this story on alert, thank you as well. (-cough-_**Review please**_-cough-)~

_**Chapter 7**__ Choices_

_Justice is…_

…the administering of deserved punishment or reward. In his eyes—his _mind_, there was no ethical line that bisected justice…because justice is _just_, and it is not as vague as good and bad. To justice he held the greatest servitude. And at one point and time, justice was defined by one man…and that man was Aizen Sousuke.

Black and black are incomparable; one darkness can seep into the skin of the other and wreak havoc just beyond the area that his eyes could not see…he understood darkness, but never was he able to peel away the physics that concealed the _true_ Aizen. Could realization be accomplished through sight? Never had he questioned himself so vigorously…never had a theory tortured him so heavily. In his lair of blindness, he had once presumed that Aizen, the harbinger of justice, had administered him the reward of promised peace. His ineptitude and his lack of foresight could not have brought him to this moment…

And so he thought…if damnation is so easily cursed to blackness, how could he truly see the devil, if he could not? Therein lay his weakness; he needed vision.

Tousen was an intelligent man. The odor of tea leaves was upon her, bedazzling his systematical approach. In this dynasty of great power there were no games…Tousen had no place in games. There is only standard. And Aizen Sousuke had insulted him heavily by persisting in this roll of dice...

He was toying with that girl.

But he found that he would rather like a game of Russian roulette himself…if it were to grant him the reward he deserved…

Then, he wondered, would he feel justice?

What would she say when he asked her to grant him insight?

He decided it would be vile of her to say no…

--

Truly it was disenchanting to watch her expression settle out into a plaintive look of enormous anxiety. Had he known that his charm was dischargeable, he supposed he would have had her right then; pristine thighs opening to greet the kissing mouths of the Iris Ensatas. He would press the thick stem of a Japanese Iris between her lips to keep her quiet. Riveting. However, Aizen strangled the thought, feeling that his lustful tendencies were beginning to fluctuate on frequent scale that was not quite adaptable. However, he could not help it. She was lovely…too lovely to be thought of too indecently. And mere days ago, he told himself that he had not wanted her.

He could have her any time he wanted.

But he was not going to do that…

Though he was so sure that her moans would melt into the back of his mouth like music...

He watched as she sat across from him, teasing the sparse mouthful of tea within the pits of her cheeks. She was deliberating over the taste…and quite frankly, it was rather fascinating to watch. Pure idiocy in a sense…but definitely fascinating.

"It's sweet…" She said softly, after she had swallowed. She ducked his gaze once or twice, then settled for staring at her empty plate.

"You do not sound pleased." He responded in idle experimentation. He leaned back into his seat like a king; folded his hands over the great white arms of his chair.

"It's good, Aizen-sama…I just…I'm not thirsty." She repressed a sigh, her heavy bosom heaving slightly against her breathing.

"Hn." He was vaguely amused. "It cannot be helped."

Orihime's look instantly contorted into that of vague terror. It only furthered to test his amusement.

"It would be surprising had you acquired an appetite so quickly…what with your reaction just mere moments ago."

Orihime's cheeks exploded with pink flame and Aizen realized that she would not have any intelligent verses to return. He nearly had to carry her to his personal dining quarters, for his touch had robbed her of her rational sensibilities. Aizen settled for sipping his tea, a small chortle escaping his lips.

She then, in response to the impulsive 'Ha!', blinked profusely.

Aizen smiled knowingly, his eyes latching onto hers once more.

She looked utterly confused.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You may enter."

"Wh—"

The words were torn from her mouth as a literal battalion of arrancar swarmed into the room. With the way the double doors slammed open, Orihime would have thought a bomb went off. They were like ants, sweeping carts of gourmet food by the shovel load into view; meats, breads, fruits, and cakes all collaborating to make a grand feast fit for a thousand. The extravagant perfume of it all was enough to make Orihime tear up…her saliva glands swelled below her tongue and she prayed _Itadakimasu_!

Food.

It made even the most deranged fool forget about their problems.

Aizen displayed no impressive reaction, merely sipped his infamous tea while the girl looked on at the carnival of preparations.

And once it was all said in done, there was so much food laid out on the square dining table that neither occupant had room for their plates.

When Aizen dined, the man dined in _style_.

"Aizen-sama," A masked arrancar addressed, "The preparations have been made as you asked."

"I believe…that it is to my satisfaction." He responded slowly. "You are dismissed."

The arrancar bowed at waist, then he and his minions flooded out of the vicinity.

Orihime was already ladling multi-colored globs onto her plate. She was rather shameless in her scouring; chunking up edible combinations that even he did not know existed.

"Sugoi..." She sang, spooning a goofy amount of paste into her mouth.

Aizen slowly, _very_ slowly raised a brow. His calculations had failed him. He had expected a sensual dinner. Her eating went beyond the barriers of sensual. But still…it quirked something within him that he could rather not understand.

--

Aizen was staring at her.

She stopped midway, and the forked fish slipped into a puddle of bean paste. It was hard to explain the sort embarrassment gained under the observation of very articulate eyes. Very articulate, attractive, maroon colored eyes that made her throat swamp with enough heat to melt food before it passed into her stomach. Her face burned…and for a moment, she lapsed into a wide realization that she could not possibly be enjoying herself.

But she was…indeed, she was. Or she had been.

She settled her fork down, gray eyes falling to her lap. "Gomen nasai. I did not wait for you to start eating…that was very rude of me."

Aizen pushed his chair back, and stood to his full height. She stiffened, heart twanging in her chest, the intensity multiplying as she felt him draw nearer—

And there was a noise, like the harsh fluffing out of clothe, and then something white and square layered over her chest. She turned her head…Aizen was behind her, leaning over her head to tie a dining clothe around her neck. She drifted into a temporary state of rigor mortis…felt the stiffness of it circle her neck with the gentle grace of his ministrations…so stiff was she now that the goose bumps did not have a soft enough surface to infest…

"It would be rather disappointing…" He breathed softly from behind her, "To see such lovely attire stained by bean paste…"

He plucked the knot into a finishing tightness and stepped away. "Wouldn't you agree?" He was walking back to his seat as he spoke, eyeing the space that was straight ahead of him.

"Of…of course…" She forced herself to speak. "I do…Aizen-sama…"

"It pleases me to know that we see eye to eye. That is why," He sat down again, sleeves gracefully sweeping ahead as he pulled food onto his own plate. "I have a proposition for you."

"…a proposition?" Her eyes grew startlingly bright.

"Yes. However, it will be revealed after this meal is finished."

--

She'd stripped a quarter of nearly every dish because she wanted to taste everything. Variety: the accentuating seasoning of life.

The woman could eat.

He did not need to wonder about where all of her calories were distributed.

She forked one last piece of cake and he watched as she slumped back like a deflated balloon. Peculiar…he had not been expecting this behavior at all. But it had not served as a deterrent.

"You enjoyed your meal." He said, an elegant smile tracing his lips.

"Yes." It took some effort to speak, apparently, because she sounded slightly out of breath. "It was delicious, Aizen-sama."

He only responded by tripling the intensity of his gaze. "Orihime…I am going to allow you two options."

It was amazing how she shot up, as if a fork of lightning had suddenly detonated quite violently in her system.

"You may live here, in my personal quarters, until I release further instruction…or, you may simply continue to live in your provided cell. Know this…my comforts delve far beyond expectations…however, you will not be allowed to step foot beyond the garden of Japanese Irises.

"Despite this, your space to roam will be nearly infinite. I assure you, Aizen-sama does not disappoint."

Orihime stared at him, a bubble of aching proportion procuring a major corner of her stomach. Part of her feared the better selection of the choices…knowing that such a push in differing living spaces could lead to things…not so prudent. She did not know what this meant. He was not forcing her to do so, merely giving her the option of delving into a more personal part of himself. It was eerie, and she was swept with discomfort.

Yet at the same time, she felt an opposing sweep of longing, wretched in its intensity, folding over this weirdness.

"Aizen-sama—"

"It is alright…" Her ears drank his stark baritone, "I will give you until tomorrow morning to decide."

"Wait--I don't understand why you are doing this--"

"It is quite simple. I would like to see you more often."

She blushed severely. "But I thought that you are always busy, Aizen-sama—"

"Tomorrow morning." He cut her off. "I will personally assess your answer."

Her heart was pounding in her chest. "…hai."

He threw her a satisfied smile, then drew himself to a stand. "Come here."

She was expectedly clumsier than he was as she stumbled over. The dining napkin loosened from around her throat… fluttered to the ground. She stood three feet away from him, her arms limp at her side.

"I wonder…did Kurosaki Ichigo ever tell you how beautiful you are?"

She closed her eyes, struggled to speak. "A-ano…no…"

"I thought not." He drew her close, and she trekked forward in lazy obedience. "Open your eyes."

She couldn't…because she knew, that if she allowed herself to do so, again…she would…

"…why won't you do what I tell you?" He whispered, his breath warm against her cheeks, "You are a very disobedient woman who is in need of punishment."

He was taunting her…

"Gomen nasai." She opened her eyes fractionally, only to see that once again his lips were poised directly above her own.

"What do you suggest, Orihime…I cannot ignore your tendency to disobey me." He leaned forward, capturing her top lip in a sensual nibble. "You might begin…to get ideas." He placed his lips fully over hers…her sweetness was impeccable…her softness, incomparable…

And he abruptly ended the kiss; only to pull his lips in a soft trace just beneath her eye. Placed his hands on her shoulders…cupped the delicate roundness. She grabbed the openings of his jacket, and he smiled into her skin.

"Come closer…" His voice rumbled into her.

Like a ghost she fell, pressing her body into his…his hands fell, and he wrapped them lightly around her waist. His warmth…she wanted it…she wanted his affection. She instantly wanted everything he could give her…

"Aizen-sama…" She said weakly into his chest, clutching his robes. "I want to stay here…with you."

"I know." He responded, drawing his hands up her spine. And he smiled…if only she could see the hint of deviance twinkling in his eyes. "I know…"

--

**A/N:** Wee!! Completed 30 mins before midnight!! Please review!!


	8. Blood Stained Robes Pt1

**11/27/08—This chapter was severely edited. **

**Disclaimer: **Bleach is not owned by Aishiteru Aizen. It is owned by Kubo Tite.

**A/N: **Hi guys! This isn't going to be a very long a/n, considering I only have a few things to say. I've been busy, but I have received your PMs and your contributions. Don't worry, none of them have gone unnoticed! I have considered them greatly, and I will respond to each of your reviews shortly.

Once again, thanks so much for sending me your reviews! I can't deny the invigoration I feel every time I get one. ^^ Thanks to:

_**St. Kitsune, Brighit R. Gauthier, Lady Kaliska, fan, frostedheavens, DoodleNoodle-no-baka, WesternMistress, HK-Revan, and Raven Alabaster. **_

--

_Chapter Eight __**Blood Stained RobesPt. I**_

_Aizen stood, his lazy gaze applying a generous amount of attention to the kneeling Loly. "Come to Aizen-sama." _

_She unfolded herself and stood militantly, her eyes burning straight ahead. Her blood was pounding like a lead drill, practically painful in its potent intensity. Two steps. Three, four. It seemed like forever until she was finally before him, her face turned away from Menoly's anchoring gaze. The entire room was statue-like, their eyes placed upon their master and the girl that was about to receive her accolade. _

_She waited. Aizen waited…and then he lifted one anointing hand, placing it on the mass of black hair upon her head. Her legs, at that very moment, felt like jelly._

"_I will personally discharge you of your duties."_

_She tensed, speech hovering mutedly out of her lips. Discharge her of her duties? But hadn't he just said, as plain as day, that she would be granted with a highest honor? "Aizen-sama," She choked out, drowning beneath the descending weight of her horror, " I wish to—"_

"_Silence."_

_And it became so. Tremulous reiatsu swarmed her consciousness. Her legs gave way; the pressure was of a magnitude so suffocating that she began to bleed from the pores—_

"_**Loly!! No!!" **_

_His fingers, large as they were, dug into her scalp as they clenched a mound of tangled hair. He could feel the blood springing beneath his fingernails. _

"_**Aizen-sama!!" **__Loly shrieked.__** "T—To—u--se—" **_

_Words exchanged for blood. His blade punched through her esophagus. She coughed, bled…spluttered to her very last breath._

_And his robes were stained with blood._

_But he turned his eyes upon Menoly anyway._

_**--**_

"Oooh, Hime-chaa~n! It's your friends; Menoly and Loly come to play!"

"Shh!!"

"_Itai! Don't hit me!" _

Menoly threw the misfit an unpleasant glare, hell bent on making the encounter as incognito as possible. Ulquiorra wasn't around; they'd been tracing his visitation patterns for days now. Well…at least Loly had been. When she wasn't pulling duty in the sands, she was roughly equating the times when Ulquiorra was elsewhere. And now that they were inching around the corner to Orihime's room, Loly was deciding to get cocky. Hadn't the run in with Grimmjow been enough? Obviously not, since Loly still wanted to hopscotch around trouble like a dame in heat.

"You go." Menoly hissed impatiently, gesticulating towards Orihime's door.

Loly nodded, gladly orchestrating their grandeur entrance. She wedged around the wall, placing both palms and one ear upon the door. "Hime-chan!" She sang again, "Mind if we come in??" She waited for a millisecond, hardly enough time to get a reasonable answer. "Guess that means okay!"

Then she let out an Amazonian cry, shouldering the door like a beast of rage. "Hime-ch—"

It fell with an ominous clatter, making way for the erratic intruders.

But Inoue Orihime was not awaiting them at the barred windows.

Ichimaru Gin was.

"My, my…ain't this something?" Gin turned around to face the two women, crimson eyes contoured into deep crescents. "I wasn't really expectin' visitors."

Loly and Menoly staggered backwards, abashed. Clearly they had not been expecting an encounter from their superior. But of course, it was impossible to foresee anything when it came to Ichimaru Gin.

"Gi…Gin-sama!" Loly spluttered incoherently, eyes spanning multiple proportions, "We thought—"

"Aw! Don't act so surprised! An' I really thought ya had come to see me." Gin actually frowned. "That ain't very polite."

"Gomen, it was all Loly's idea." Menoly hurriedly appointed, attempting to steer the fault into her friend's lane. But Loly's eyes narrowed with fiery derision, for she was having none of it.

"What?" She barked incredulously, "Don't act as if you didn't go along with it!"

"It was your idea!" Menoly squeezed out apprehensively.

"Bitch, this is all your fault! If you hadn't suggested that we—"

"Well you're the one who brought it up!"

"_What?!"_

"I just wanted to say something to get you to shut up! That's all you talk about is Hime-chan." Menoly ranted pointedly. "_Hime-chan, Hime-chan, Hime-chan_—"

"Damn." Gin mused, his immense presence cutting the argument like a katana. "An' here I thought we were gonna have polite conversation. Guess that ain't happenin', huh?"

Both girls locked into place, as if the mere sound of his voice had suddenly stripped them of all mobility. "We—"

"You'd think ya learn," Gin paced forward, like an undaunted fox, "'Specially since ya got it bad from Grimmy, but I suppose all of that is behind ya."

"Grimmjow-sama…h-how did you…?"

"Don't tell me ya didn't know? I know about everything that goes on around here!"

Their throats tightened. If Gin knew about everything…that mean that Gin had possibly reported their actions to Aizen-sama. And that meant—if Aizen-sama knew—

"But don't worry about it. I ain't told 'im." He started past them, grinning. "I ain't told him anything. After all, he's been too busy seeing that Hime-chan is all nice and cozy in his quarters."

And he left the room, but not without the flourishing afterthought, "Oh and, I hope ya don't mind sending Hime-chan a hello from me."

**--**

_I know…I know…_

Orihime could not diagnose the situation. For reality had a face that held many many deviances. And she could not decide, or despair, on whether she had folded beneath another pattern of his deception…or whether he had simply changed his mind about her…

But really, what was there to change?

That Aizen liked her?

Really…could she possibly be so haughty? He could she fool herself into thinking that Aizen had warped into someone _loveable_…

She may have…_enjoyed_ his affections, his confectionary kisses, his miniscule gropes and the deliciously poisonous looks he gave her from afar. But really, could his lazy bedroom finger wiggles cue to something more delicate? More meditative? Like _love_.

Impossible. To say that Aizen Sousuke had fallen in love with her was utterly ridiculous. She did not even hope that it was true. She just knew, with every ounce of her languidly beating heart, that it was impossible.

So he must have been after something else…and this is what she feared, as she strolled through the seemingly endless kingdom that was Aizen.

No…what she truly feared was that she would not hesitate to deny him anything, if only for her pleasure alone…she pondered on how her neediness had matured into something…as Aizen had worded it, _monstrous_.

It was only right to assume that he was taking advantage of her powerful interests…aka, her ruling weaknesses.

Orihime may not have been the brightest crayon in the box, but she could certainly sense the obtuseness of her current situation…

Still, however, there was something that counteracted the very base of Aizen's invitation. And it was the fact that simply at will, she could invade every square foot of Aizen's privacy and not think twice about it. Especially since, currently, he was not around. He had left for a meeting with his Espada, saying that he would return in the wee hours of the morning. Leaving her to freely explore his dynasty.

"I wonder…" She thought aloud, as she scaled a spiraling staircase. "If he thought about that."

And that was when she came across a library; a plethora of white shelves stacked side by side to form thinly ventilated isles. Rolling ladders and step ladders lined various shelves, tri-toned books of all sizes, and even a few scrolls here or there. The entire area spanned for what seemed like a mile…and it was eerie, because she seemed to be the only one regarding its space. She decided that she was not too intrigued by its emptiness and sped her way down another hall.

This one led to an impasse; she walked into the mouth of a railed balcony and looked down; the sand seemed thousands of feet below. So far was it, that she could no longer distinguish the decorative grooves of the dunes. She was higher up in Las Noches than she could have ever expected…and this too, disturbed her.

All in all, by the time her explorative interests had grown lax, she had discovered multiple balconies, an expansive kitchen, a luminous spa area, tea rooms, several gardening areas, and a vividly accented room that held various objects of entertainment. Yet everything was white, plain, empty, largely spaced out, and unsubtle. You'd think there would be more elegance.

However, the one thing she hadn't found…

Was Aizen's bedroom.

She had etched and invaded every door that was to go through and still…nothing.

It had been hours since she had set out in the miniature mansion and she was tired. So when she could not mark her way into the very living space that Aizen slept, she settled for napping on a couch in a living room.

Strange.

It was very similar to the one in her old prison square.

--

Initially, it was stupidity that sparked the suicidal juices in Loly's brain. Loly may have been the one for excellent perseverance, but that didn't make her any less stupid. Like a fool, Loly had taken Gin's parting speech for permission to meddle… but alas, some females only hear what they want to hear and must use it to their advantage.

Menoly thought that even if Gin had not said a word about saying something to Hime-chan, Loly still would have found a reason to cause damage.

There was only one word to describe Loly.

And that was, trigger happy. Or Aizen happy…either would describe the suicidal tramp adequately.

So they were snooping around yet another corner, preparing to quickly dance their way up the grand steps that led down to the garden of Japanese Irises. And they would have…if someone wasn't already heading there first.

"Tousen-sama!!" Loly bleated. Menoly pressed her hand against the other girl's motor mouth and they both glared.

"What's he doing here?!"

Loly pried Menoly's fingers away from her lips, "I don't know…but he knows how to get into that door. If we hurry we can—"

"Christ Loly, are you _fuckin' crazy_?? I'm not dying here tonight. If you're still going to go through that door just to give Hime-chan another—"

But Loly had shot upward, tracing after Kaname Tousen as he disappeared through the blinding white light. Menoly frowned in mental torment. Maybe she would have lived a little longer had she decided to turn around.

--

He counted them; her breaths, as she breathed. Anyone could see that they were unsteadied; anxiety ridden, clustered, and uneven. It was almost as if, even in her sleep, she was apprehensive.

"Wake up."

The simple command jolted her frame to life. He felt the intense movements, the rustle of clothe, the indentions of her balled up fists into the surface of the couch.

"Nani…?! Tousen?…Kaname Tousen…?"

"I have…yet another proposition for you. Actually, if you do not follow through, I will kill you."

She was silent…he heard her breathing escalate into shaky intervals. Through the darkness, he sensed her fear. It was rising without restraint.

"What do you mean?" She bleated fearfully, "I—"

"You will return my sight…"

She was silent, once again, as she accepted the magnitude of the situation. "I can't do that."

"You want to die?"

"No--" She said quickly, "I must ask permission from Aizen-sama before I can do something like that…"

"Aizen-sama…" Tousen rumbled slowly, "Needn't know a thing about this current meeting…"

Silence. A shifting of clothe, audible breathing…he almost felt the moist opening and closure of her lips…

"Do you agree to cooperate?"

"I do not…have a choice, do I?" The question lapsed off languidly, signifying her defeat.

He angled his head a bit, to better clarify the submission in her voice. "I suppose you do not. But you will not heal my eyes now…you will wait until Aizen Sousuke's intentions have inverted. You will come to me then…when you have fully gained his trust. Even if it means having your dignity at stake."

She shifted again, and he turned away, content with the speech that he had just allowed her ears. He was going to leave now. And he was going to wait…going to wait on the final moment. The moment where justice would be served.

--

"Oh…_shit_…"

When Kaname began to walk away from the girl, he stopped just mere feet away from the very bookcase that Menoly and Loly where kneeling behind. They froze…awaiting the blow…but nothing came. The blind swordsman merely continued on and did not reframe from his forward pace.

"_Did he see us?? Do you think he saw us?!"_

Menoly sighed, _"Dipshit, he's blind!"_

"Who's there??"

Hime-chan's hesitant voice brought them back to earth. And Loly grinned, finally unearthing her skinny frame from their well-spotted hiding spot.

"Konbon wa, Hime-chan!" She grinned heartily. "Long time no see!"


	9. Blood Stained Robes Pt2

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Bleach.

**A/N:** I made severe editation to Chapter 8, since I got Menoly and Loly mixed up. This chapter is a bit on the short side, and it's not the best chapter...but it's the only way I can figure on how to break it up.

_**St. Kitsune, Brighit R. Gauthier, Lady Kaliska, frostedheavens, Masque Treble, Alley7744, DoodleNoodle-no-baka, Usa-neko Kyau, Flashfire44(x2), ciuiciui.**_

Also, thank you to those who have added this story to your alerts and/or favorites, and taking the time to add me to your favorite author's list. Muchos Gracias!

**One more thing: **I've created an **Aizen Forum **(Deseo Carnal: Aizen Discussion). If you would like to partake in discussion about Mr. Aizen, then please check it out on my profile.

Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

--

_Chapter Nine __**Blood Stained Robes Pt.2**_

"_Make sense, and I will discontinue…"_ _He growled gently. _

_He really was attractive; one could call him conventionally beautiful. For though his characteristics were not really thought provoking, the way he carried himself was a commodity on its own. But his eyes…they were embodied by something utterly different. They were a part of his body that carried its own bedroom commentary; wizened in the stew of its own wit. _

_And the moonlight seemed to grow feeble when it engulfed his solid form…as if it was afraid he may be dissatisfied with bulk of its luminance. And there was nothing more frightening than a dissatisfied Aizen Sousuke. _

_Therefore, to sate his superiority complex, she only gasped when the tip of his tongue moistened the crevasse of her naval. _

…_but she could not explain the feeling that came next._

--

Her feeling of pure horror was masked by solemnity. They, whom were so eager to terrify her, had done so successfully, and she could only greet them with a look of absence. The words were hard to formulate…her heart was absolutely crashing against her ribcage, her pulse quickening with the potency of venom. She wanted to call for help, but she could only sit frozen.

"Aw! What's the matter, Hime-chan!" Loly cooed towards Orihime's unresponsiveness, "You sure are dull! No sense of humor whatsoever! Tsk tsk…

"Aizen-sama must be really bored to have picked someone like you. Aizen-sama must be looking for a…_quick fix_."

"Tch. He only wants her because she's a big-boobed whore." Menoly added offhandedly.

"I was getting to that!" Loly shrieked.

Menoly rolled her eyes.

"Anyway, we're just going to get right to the point! We're gonna play a little game. You like games…don't you Hime?" Loly stepped over, a coarse grin on her face. "It's a classic. You know…cat and mouse."

"Dog and cat."

"Run and chase."

Menoly smirked, "Live…or die."

Orihime stood, her fingers curling so deeply into her palms that her knuckles turned white. "Santen Kesshun!!!"

But the zap was not efficient enough. Orihime gaped as her attack was flung off course...severing an unfortunate bookcase instead.

When tattered book pages flapped about, both arrancar women grinned.

"Eh?! Weak bitch! Take _this_!" Loly threw out an outstretched palm, and a cylindrical cero immediately deteriorated the surrounding space. Orihime barely had time to dodge. She threw herself sideways, but the awkward angling of her foot movement caused her pivot to be off; she shrieked as her shoulder was scorched. Blood flowed over the charred epidermis.

"_Nigeru!!"_ Loly howled maniacally. "Run little Princess, because this is it!!"

And that was when Menoly charged. Orihime barely had any time to recover from the singeing pain…the blonde had sonido'ed forward, burying the sharp edge of her heel into Orihime's belly cavity.

"_Ugh—!!" _She flew some distance, spittle and blood gushing up from her throat in globules. And when she landed, she could only expulse suffering wheezes.

Their laughter rang in her ears with the immensity of a freight train.

"_Where'd she go??"_

"_I dunno…let's split up." _

Blood and saliva was trickling down her chin. Her limbs felt like one thousand pounds of charged iron…_she could not move_…even breathing sent a horde of pain spiraling through her system.

"_Oooh…Hime-chaaa~n!"_

"_Oi…Loly, maybe we shouldn't do this…"_

Orihime closed her eyes.

"_Why not? We can just make her heal herself later and it'll look like it never happened." _The simpleton responded from several feet away.

Menoly appeared to sigh. _"…don't you think she'll tell Aizen-sama?"_

"_The concubine is not that stupid. I mean, I know there's an uneven proportion between boobs and brains--"_

"…_but what if she _does_?" _

Orihime writhed in her corner of rubble. If she could move…_if only she could move_…but she could not decide what was weighing her down more; her fear, or her burning pain, or the idea that her worthlessness was even heavier than anything she'd ever endured. She found that there was a difference between knowing that you're worthless…and feeling that you are.

A few swearwords emanated from wherever the female arrancar were, and then, she heard them move.

She cycled through her limited options. _Get up and attempt to run. Surrender and get beaten to a pulp. Or try another Santen Kesshun._ But since her powers were so weak, they would only serve as a minimal distraction…and _then_ where would she go?

"_There she is!!" _

The hair on her head was wrenched so tightly that she could feel them being stripped from their pores. Loly dragged her out like a dying fish, her legs but useless slivers of flesh.

"Now…" Loly dragged her up to her knees, "What do you have to say for yourself??!"

Orihime mouthed a few squeaks, which resulted in a chastising backhand.

"Try…_again_…" Loly growled.

Orihime pinched her eyes shut. _"Ss…sante—santen kessh—"_

"_Loly!! Get out of the way!!" _

"—_un!!" _

Orihime's golden attack whizzed forward, and Loly was forced to toss the girl aside like a sack of potatoes. Inoue's body flew…over a nearby _railing,_ and she landed in the very center of the library, her body slumped between two looming bookcases. Unfortunately, the bulk of the force of her fall was placed upon her left arm.

_CRUNCH _

"_Iie!!!!!!"_

Orihime and Loly howled in their respective locations, both girls' gripping severely injured arms.

"_That bitch nearly cut my arm off!!"_

"Iie…I can't move…"

"_Come on Menoly, that's enough—You remember what happened last time--"_

"_Well guess what,"_ Loly spat violently to her counterpart, _"Grimmy's not here and the bitch is gonna pay like hell—"_

"**I can only guess…what that may mean." **

--

_And when he turned his eyes upon Menoly, she could only quiver in defeat…could only grow pale when a quirky smile lit his blood spattered expression._

"_Konbon wa." He said shortly…and when he smoothed his fingers through his hair, the blood became embedded in the foremost of his brown tendrils._

"_Good evening, Aizen-sama…" Menoly bit out, averting her eyes from her dead friend. _

"_Good evening…and, goodbye." _

_She told herself she would not scream. That when her death came, she would only go out in a shimmer of particles and not a sound would be elicited from her lips._

_But she did._

_And no one but Aizen was the merrier. _

"_**Iya!!! Aizen-sama!!!"**_


	10. Author's Note

**01/31/09**

Alas...I should be sleeping, but this injustice is bugging me.

Hello everyone. I have not updated in quite a while...sadly, my inspiration for this story has gone rotten. I've reached an impasse, but I have not given up on it. Instead, I am going to write it all over again; you know, think back on the plot. I just can't let it go. It would hurt to much to see one of my best, though poorly constructed pieces, wasted. I want to make it better, more formulated, more fit for reading...and the best way to do that is to take a break from it, write another story maybe...etc.

Thank you guys for all of your contributions and reviews! Like I said, I have not forgotten anything...please look foward to some changes in the coming weeks. And once I've paved out what I want to do, I'll mobilize The Romance of a Withered Flower once more.

**--Aishiteru Aizen**


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